


ghosts of their past

by starryflower



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, and bad jokes, idk how to tag this thing but it is very chaotic, just chaos, there is making fun of thirteen because she tiny, there is no point, there is pain i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryflower/pseuds/starryflower
Summary: “Sometimes,” Amy rasped, her voice thick with sorrow, “sometimes I wonder if he thinks about us,” she admits, words turning into whispers as she continues, “I know that he wasn’t alone after us, I hope he wasn’t. I just like to imagine that sometimes he looks up at the stars and that he thinks of us.”“He never liked endings, did he?” Rory chuckled, but there was no humour in it. Only a painful realisation, but he knew, they both knew.
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hiya! this fic was an idea that I had in my mind for a while now and while I do realise that it's not perfect, I'm trying to force myself to actually write and post stuff because one person might like it and that's all that really matters. reading fanfiction became a huge part of my quarantine life and I'd like to thank all the fic writers for keeping me occupied so here's my fic and hopefully, it will occupy someone in the good sense but even making fun of it counts as entertainment so go for it legends

The sun was shining, almost blinding her as she got out of the car. Red hair glistened in the sun, styled into an intricate bun that took her weeks to learn, but she got the hang of it eventually. She looked over at her husband and gave him a small smile. Finally, out of the city, finally alone, just the two of them, displaced in time, all on their own.

They knew he wouldn’t come; they knew he couldn’t even though they didn’t dare to say the reason aloud. But still, they were hopeful. Hopeful that one day it would all be fine. It took them a while to realise that it was over. Each day they would wake up and each day their faith would die out a little more. They both knew their faith was built on something impossible, but yet they weren’t bold enough to speak it into existence. This was their life now. 

“I hope you’re excited for this weekend Mrs Williams,” Rory joked as he took the luggage out of the car, making his way over to his wife. 

She still thought he looked ridiculous in his new outfit, but hers probably wasn’t any better; she missed the comfort of her old clothes, she missed the technology, she missed her old life. But she didn’t regret her decision, no matter how much she missed it. She took his hand into hers, the small touch giving her comfort as she took a deep breath and looked up at the house that stood on top of the hill. 

He squeezed her hand slightly, running his thumb across pale skin; words he wanted to scream out loud said unspoken. Just the two of them pretending that everything was back to normal for the weekend. Two days of blissful ignorance, two days of shutting their eyes and pretending that once Sunday is over, they would get to go back to their home and visit their parents once again. 

It hurt to pretend, it hurt to realise, it hurt. Whether it was the pain of knowing or not knowing they didn’t know. 

Without another word, Amy took a step forward, the light blue of her dress dancing around her in the breeze, making each step lighter, easier. Two days of pretending weren’t enough, but it would have to do. Rory followed after her quietly, carrying the luggage, feeling heavy as if he were carrying the burden of the world on his back. Two days wasn’t enough. 

They walked quietly, long, green grass brushing around their feet, still wet with morning dew. There was a forest in the distance, quiet and dark, rich shades of green creating a serene scenery. The sky was blue like Amy’s dress and Rory almost breathed in the azure tones that blended with the scent of spring and calm. The flowers blooming in the fields added some nice colours into the mix of peaceful ambience, almost as if an impressionist painter created it specifically for them. 

Their breaths got heavier yet lighter with each step as they neared the white house that was so out of place and yet it belonged. They visited it a few times already but didn’t yet get the chance to see it among the hues of spring and newness, the nature surrounding it born again after the cold winter. It gave them hope that maybe winter wouldn’t last, that maybe spring would come again. 

Amy reached the door first and turned to face her husband with a grin on her face, waiting for him to do the honours. Rory took the key out of his pocket and put it into the lock, turning it a few times before he heard the clicking sound and made a gesture for his wife to step forward. 

It looked just like they remembered, light and spacious even though it was rather small. It reminded them of a certain blue box that was also small yet big. The thought of him still hurt and they didn’t think it would ever stop hurting though they knew it would get better to live with the pain. 

Sometimes Amy wanted to blame him. She wanted to blame him for taking them there, she wanted to blame him for not coming back for them, she wanted to blame him for crashing into her garden and changing her life. 

But she couldn’t. Because each time she wanted to shout at her raggedy man, there was her idiot, right next to her, gently pulling her into a hug as her accent thickened and her throat hurt more with each word. Because without her raggedy man, she probably wouldn’t have him. And he was worth all the pain and she knew there was a lot more to come. 

But they had two days, two days of pretending that things could be okay, that he could come back, that this was just a trip gone wrong. Because it was. A trip that went wrong. Only he was taking his time to get back to them and save them. 

Amy turned around as Rory put down the luggage, it made a loud noise as it hit the ground, disrupting the quiet and the flow of her thoughts. She ran her fingers across the wooden cupboard, deciding to ignore the thin layer of dust that collected on them. She thought of cleaning the place up but forgot that idea as quickly as she got it. It was futile, really. Their visits became less frequent through the winter and now they feared the worst. 

It was closer with each day and they chose to ignore it, knowing they still had time. Maybe it was because time was all they had left. The time that wasn’t theirs and yet they were forced into it and left forgotten, only to be discovered years later when they wouldn’t come back home. 

“Sometimes,” Amy rasped, her voice thick with sorrow, “sometimes I wonder if he thinks about us,” she admits, words turning into whispers as she continues, “I know that he wasn’t alone after us, I hope he wasn’t. I just like to imagine that sometimes he looks up at the stars and that he thinks of us.” 

“He never liked endings, did he?” Rory chuckled, but there was no humour in it. Only a painful realisation, but he knew, they both knew. 

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Amy asked, barely audible as tears filled up hazel eyes that now glossed like glass. 

They both knew it yet this was the first time they said it. He wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t. Not because of paradoxes, they knew he could work his way around them, they saw him do it. He wasn’t coming back for them, because he couldn’t lose them again. The man with two hearts, both filled with so much sadness it could fill a pond or two. 

“If he did, I would so take his bowtie for taking so long to get here,” Rory joked, making his wife’s lips quirk up. 

“I would probably just yell at him, but knowing him he would turn up wearing something stupid, like that bloody fez,” Amy laughed, remembering all the times their alien friend had different ideas about fashion and style than they did. 

“I miss him,” she admitted with a sad smile as Rory made his way to her and pulled her into a hug. She breathed in the scent of his cologne, it was earthy and comforting, just like his warm body around her own. He held her tighter until her breathing calmed down, rubbing circles on her back in a soothing motion. 

“I know,” he murmured into her hair, so quietly she could’ve imagined it, words carried on warm breaths said with such gentleness to not disturb her even more. “I miss him too.” 

The hall filled up with light and silence so soothing Amy could cry. It was almost as if the air around her too, enveloped her in a hug as if it knew how desperately she needed it. She listened to the sound of Rory’s steady heartbeat, holding her breath to not disrupt the moment. He was there, he was next to her. He was her constant in this world of uncertainty; if there was no one else, he would be there, his love would be there. 

She didn’t regret it. As she allowed herself to breathe again, she slowly pulled away from him, nodding slightly to let him know she was okay now. She was okay because she had him. 

“How about we unpack and have a quick picnic?” she suggested with a smile on her lips, excited for the opportunity to spend time in the colours of spring and hope that almost made her remember a certain painter with hair as orange as her own. 

“By ‘we’ you mean I’ll unpack, right?” Rory asked with fake annoyance, his hand already back on the luggage. 

“I’m glad this marriage thing is working out so well for us,” Amy replied with a sly smile, planting a kiss on his cheek as she made her way to the storage, looking for the blanket. 

Rory fondly rolled his eyes at his wife’s antics, heading upstairs to the bedroom. He put the luggage down on the floor and looked around the room, which still looked the same plus a slightly visible layer of dust on the mahogany furniture. It was a simple room really, a somewhat comfortable bed with white sheets, two nightstands and a big closet with intricate handles that towered over him, almost reaching the ceiling. 

The wooden floor creaked with each step he took, it was a sound that he almost tuned out, so used to the loud floors by now. He opened the almost empty closet and sighed as his eyes made way to the pieces of clothing that reminded him of how alien he felt. 

They left them here almost a year ago, the clothes served as a painful reminder of the life they used to lead back when things were simpler. He ran his fingers across the mustard-coloured jacket, the texture almost foreign to him. It brought up memories he tried to forget every day. It brought up the feeling of suddenly being alone in the unknown, praying that he was right. 

He loved her more than she loved him. He was always so sure of it but back then he was praying that she would let him be right just once. He closed his eyes, fingers still clutching tightly onto the material, as he felt wind swishing around him, warm hands desperately wrapping around him as he wrapped his arms around her body. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was stood in the bedroom. He squinted as warm sunlight made its way in through the slightly grubby window, but neither one of them was in a hurry to clean the place up. 

“Rory, forget the unpacking, just take the snacks and go, you’ve been there for ages!” a loud and distinctly Scottish voice came from downstairs and Rory chuckled a bit before making his way to the food. There was a movement in the corner of his eye, but when he turned around to look, nothing was there. He rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times to see if anything would change. Nothing. Just empty space. He heard Amy yell something indistinguishable from downstairs, his mind catching up with him. He opened the luggage and took out the snacks. He would have a lot of explaining to do, he realised once he got downstairs with the goods, but he was sure Amy wouldn’t be that cross with him. 

After all, they both had mixed feelings about the clothes in the closet that haunted them, yet they were unable to get rid of them. As they left the small house with smiles on their lips, he nearly forgot about the mess left in the bedroom, luggage near the door and ghosts of their past staring at him from the open closet and the shadow that he wasn’t sure was ever even there. 

Amy linked her arm with his, pulling him closer as she put her head on his shoulder. They didn’t go far from the house, they picked out a nice place on top of the hill, one where they could see the scenery and they took it in as best as they could, the scent of spring filling up their senses, soft yet powerful. 

She sat next to him, immediately resting against his body and he softly kissed the top of her head and smiled into her hair. The blanket under them was familiar yet different, reminding them of astronauts and lakes and paradoxes, but neither one of them dared to mention it. Instead, they chose to focus on the various types of biscuits they have bought for the trip, each one inconspicuously stealing extra ones from the type they liked the most. 

“You know,” she said with her mouth full of biscuits, “I guess there are worse places where we could end up.” 

Hazel eyes lined with smile lines met blue and, at that moment, he knew that the ambience of spring, the beauty of the scenery had nothing on her. She smiled back at him and took another biscuit, offering it to him. He gladly took it while staring at her, illuminated in the sun, the sunshine of his life. 

“Maybe we should spend the whole day outside, we wouldn’t want to waste this weather,” he suggested and she nodded, gifting him with another sweet smile. 

… 

She was standing in the dim yellow light, unsure of what to fidget with next. Her hands needed to be occupied, she had to do something, she had to keep going. She just wished that sometimes her mind would catch up with her hands, that it could stop and just focus on one thing. She sighed softly as she made her way to the console, debating on what to break and fix this time. 

She had done it all, several times now. Maintenance. Keeping busy until her mind shut up. Occupying herself with another pointless task, shutting out everything and everyone. Her mind didn’t shut up. It got progressively louder until she couldn’t take it anymore. She would break something, then she would fix it. That’s what she was good at, right? Fixing things, or was it the breaking part? 

Sometimes she would close her eyes, not to sleep, sleeping was for the weak. She was weak. She didn’t want to sleep, no matter how much the fam told her that she looked tired. She ignored the dark bags under her eyes, she ignored the concerned looks. Sometimes she would close her eyes and hear three distinct footsteps, one bold and certain, one wary and energetic, one slower and fatigued. 

When she opened her eyes, they were gone. In a way, she should be happy. The boys left on their own terms, alive and well. Yaz was visiting at home and she dreaded the moment when she came back. Yaz, sweet, kind Yaz, confident and hungry for more. She was scared that Yaz wouldn’t get so lucky. She was scared that Yaz would end up as another name on the long list of names of those she has failed. 

She could feel the Tardis and her presence wrap around her mind in a comforting manner that she didn’t want, didn’t deserve, yet so desperately needed. She needed comfort more than anything, but she didn’t want to admit that, feeling unworthy of kindness and love. 

It was still new in her mind, still fresh even though decades have passed since Gallifrey. She didn’t dare to put a number on it, knowing that numbers had no meaning for her. All the numbers in her life were too high, too big, too scary. The number of lives she has lost, the number of people she has failed, the number of lives she has lived. 

She lost count. 

She lost count of all the names, the faces, the lives, the years… she closed her eyes again, each breath heavier than the last, each movement slower as if she was stuck in slow motion, colours around her losing their saturation, slowly fading into dull tones of nothing. She was alone and she lost count. 

The Tardis made a few sounds, wrapping her in a warm embrace, concerned for her thief more than anyone. Her thief needed time to heal, the Tardis knew that. Her thief needed time to heal but right now, she needed a distraction. And so, she took off, taking her thief off guard as she desperately hanged on, fingers clasped around the controls to not fall over. 

“No, no, no, you don’t get to do this!” she yelled, giving her ship an irritated look. They landed, but she still held the console, grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. “I am not going.” 

There was static under her fingers and she yelped as it hit her, giving her a small shock. She took a heavy breath, brows furrowed with anger as she pointed at the centre column, “you are not the boss of me.” 

The Tardis made a few angry sounds as it opened the door, letting in a chilly breeze. She could feel the cold air around her, the wind outside was furious and when she peered outside the door, all she could see were trees and darkness. Her interest peaked, but she wouldn’t let her ship control her, she couldn’t. It was when she saw something move within the nothingness that she made a hesitant step forward, reaching for the unknown. 

Right before she left, she turned around, giving her ship a stern look, “you won this time.” 

… 

The sun was shining, illuminating her features with soft golden light. He looked down on her from his newspaper, her ginger hair now let down, cascading down her back in soft waves. She was doing something, glasses sat on the bridge of her nose sliding off slightly and she had to adjust them every few minutes. Her hands were occupied and next to her laid at least a dozen of daisies and he watched with fascination as she picked up another one and tied it into her creation. 

“Why are you reading that newspaper?” she asked as she finished her flower crown and put it on top of his head. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but he would manage for her sake. “I guess I just like to know what’s happening,” he shrugged. 

She gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher and then sighed, eyes glossed over with something he saw in his own eyes almost daily. “I don’t,” she said finally while plucking a blade of grass and wrapping it around her finger, tightening it until the tip started to turn white. 

He nodded softly, understanding what she meant. He also didn’t want to know, but they already had spoilers for the whole thing. Their new friends grew more afraid each day, concerned about what would happen to the world, still not fully recovered from the events of the past. They had a lot coming and this time they had to live through it because the Doctor wouldn’t call on them to get back to the Tardis and go home. 

“I’m scared,” Amy admitted quietly after a minute of silence, looking at her husband in the eyes. They were both scared and he didn’t know whether admitting to it or trying to play the hero was the better choice. 

Instead, he just sighed and put the flower crown on her head, making her the queen of it all. She smiled at him, sadly, her hand finding his as she held on tightly, afraid he would disappear. 

“I wanted to be right, you know,” he said carefully, treading softly. She looked to him, confusion was written all over her face, brows furrowed. “I wanted to be right because if I was, you’d still have a life.” 

Her eyes went wide, filled with tears that threatened to spill every second. “Don’t say that you idiot,” she cried out, punching him lightly on the arm, “there’s no life without you,” she then added quietly. 

It was his turn now, eyes glossy as he took a shaky breath. He knew that, of course, he knew that. He knew that the second she wanted to jump with him, he knew that the second when he found himself lost in the past, ready to walk away before a cross Scottish voice stopped him. He knew that when he turned around and found himself mesmerised by ginger hair flying in the wind, he knew that when her lips found his when they swore, they would never let go. 

Together or not at all. 

They lost track of time as the sun began to set, creating beautiful hues of orange and pink, a sign that the next day would be just as beautiful as this one was. She told him that she wanted to watch the stars and so they lied there, trying to ignore the shivers that came once the temperature dropped low enough, because the stars were too bright and beautiful to pass up. 

“Do you think he’s still out there?” 

Rory took a deep breath, considering the options, before settling on the least painful one. “Yes.” 

“Good,” Amy nodded, snuggling closer to him, “I hope he’s taking good care of our daughter.” 

“He better be, otherwise I’ll come and get him personally and I don’t care that we’re stuck here.” 

Amy laughed at that, a sweet melodic laugh that always helped to lift his spirit, and he couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “You wouldn’t dare,” she murmured into his chest and he couldn’t help but lift his head and look at her, pretending to be hurt by her accusation. 

“Excuse me, I was plastic for two thousand years, I’m a total badass.” 

Amy just shook her head with a smile, before leaning up and planting a kiss on his lips, “yes you are,” she said simply as their eyes locked, “but you wouldn’t dare,” she said simply. 

“You know, I did punch him,” he reminded her and she laughed, remembering when he told her the story. Those were simpler times, for both of them. 

There was an uneasy feeling about the quiet that filled the air around them, their thoughts taking the same direction once again. “I don’t know how Melody did it, all the spoilers, knowing what would come, keeping it from us… she must’ve been really lonely.” 

Rory held his wife closer, pain filling up his heart as he thought of their daughter. She was alone for it all and he had Amy to hold his hand while they walked over ice, unsure when it would crack under their feet, afraid that the day would come when water would swallow them within its embrace and never let go. Afraid of darkness. 

The wind picked up its pace, whistling around them, making Amy’s hair fly in all directions, stealing her crown that has started to wilt, the current making it disappear within the night. They looked at each other without words and picked up their belongings, heading back on now shaky ground, struggling to keep up before the wind swept them away like the blooms that had graced Amy’s head. 

He looked out her hand and she took it gratefully, the warmth of his skin making her ease up a bit. He was here, he was next to her, he was with her. They would be okay; they would just have to make it to the front door. They have faced forces much darker than the wind that swished furiously around them in a familiar manner. The pair made their way around the house, finally coming face to face with the front door. Rory reached for the handle and motioned for Amy to get inside quickly and then he got inside himself, shutting the door behind them. 

... 

She was sure there was a shadow, she couldn’t have made it up, but it seemed as if she had walked for hours and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep up the pace. Her hair was flying in all directions, creating a golden halo around her head. Her breathing got faster with each step she took and she tried not to fall over the thick roots of the trees. 

The wind was getting faster, making the trees shake furiously as it swished through their branches. The night was dark and cold, making her shiver as she walked down the muddy path covered in dead leaves leftover from the winter. Little twigs cracked under her now dirty boots with every step she took, heavy smoke from her lips dancing in the air and then disappearing within the darkness. She had an eery feeling, chills running down her spine, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. 

She was sure there was a shadow. 

She could sense it, the other presence hidden within the cloak of the night, observing her, following her every move, getting closer. The darkness within the dark, a shadow, lurking, taking its time to strike. She stopped in her tracks, the sound of her heavy breathing and rapid heartbeats ringing in her ears. 

It was close, she realised, feeling the movement behind her. She slowly shifted, coat floating around her, picked up by the strong wind. The shadow was watching her, unmoving, unnaturally still. Hazel eyes locked with the nothingness in front of her, unsure of what would happen next. She quickly went through all of the possible scenarios in her head, deciding on her approach. 

The shadow stood still as if it were waiting. She should do something. 

“Uh, hello,” she said, carefully looking the shadow over. The gloomy figure stood still as if it was… scared. 

“I’m the Doctor,” she continued after a minute of silence filled only by whistling wind and something, she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I suppose you aren’t the talkative type, are you?” 

The shadow stayed quiet as it started to move, stopping a few feet apart from her, turning back to face her as if it were expecting something. She furrowed her brows at it, unsure of what to do next. Then the shadow took a few more steps forward and shifted again, watching her intently, hoping it could make her understand. 

“Do you want me to follow you?” she realised and instead of an answer, the shadow moved forward once again. She quietly followed her new companion, the strong wind making her faster, almost as if it wanted to pick her up and fly her to where her quiet friend was headed. “Where are we headed?” she murmured, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. 

The shadow in front of her flickered. At first, she thought she only imagined it as golden hair flew into her face, momentarily obscuring her vision. But then the shadow got faster, as if it was panicking, they wouldn’t make it on time. She picked up her pace, running on the slippery ground as she tried to catch up with the now almost gone shadow. It turned to face her and a wave of desperation hit her as the shadow vanished into the air. 

She squinted; vision blurry as she stared into the distance. There was a small house on the top of a hill, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. “Well then,” she spoke out loud, unsure of whether this was a trap or someone in need of help, but she wasn’t about to risk it, “let’s get a shift on.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya, so, a new chapter, hope I don't disappoint you lot that much, I really did try although it might not seem like it, anyway, thank you for the kind comments on the last chapter, they made my day

She made her way to the house. It was oddly quiet and the lights were off, however, the door was unlocked. She was kind of disappointed by it, looking forward to any excuse to use her sonic screwdriver, still proud of her creation after all the years. She enjoyed the yellowy-orange glow and the sound it made, it was like a constant to her, other than her ship.

The madwoman in the box who tried to help her when she didn’t deserve it. 

She shook her head softly to make the thoughts go away, letting the thrill of the adventure overcome her and fill her senses. The house somehow looked bigger inside, the light walls optically adding space. The furniture she could see in the hall was mostly wooden and looked older in style than the twenty-first century. It dawned on her that she had no idea where or when she was, but she continued without taking any precautions, she found that it worked best that way, especially when she was alone. 

Humans were more fragile, she had to make sure they would be safe, she couldn’t be so careless with them, not after everything that has happened. 

Her gaze fell onto the cupboard next to her, most of its surface covered in dust except for what looked like someone ran their fingers against the wood. The dustless spot must’ve been fairly new and it would explain the unlocked door. It did not explain the eery quiet that got interrupted with each new step she took, floors creaking under her boots. Maybe the inhabitants were asleep, but she doubted that anyone was home after she accidentally bumped into the railing, trying not to cry out when sudden pain spilt over her arm. 

She didn’t dare to turn on the light and instead made her way around the house slowly as her vision adjusted to the gloomy rooms filled only by moonlight that shone through windows that needed cleaning. 

“So, um,” she started, her voice a mere whisper, “I’m here, at least I think you wanted me to go here, I’m not really sure, you didn’t exactly tell me anything… well, I don’t know what you want from me.” 

The room stayed unnaturally quiet and she hoped the shadow would appear again, its obscure presence a big question mark among many others. She thought it wasn’t threatening, it didn’t seem like it, it seemed helpless. Well, as much as a mysterious dark shadow that doesn’t talk can get. 

She slowly made her way upstairs, the stairs creaking even louder than the floor, and she made her way into the first room that had an open door. There was some luggage near the entrance to what she assumed was a bedroom, it looked worn down and it was open, but still filled with clothes. The people occupying the house at the moment were probably just visiting, she realised as she ran her fingers across the nightstand next to the bed. 

Dust. It would explain a lot. They probably went away for a walk and didn’t feel the need to lock the door, not a lot of people would turn up in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere. She quickly looked over the clothes that were neatly folded in the luggage. Two sets of clothes, man and woman, probably. She couldn’t really judge these types of things, coming from a society where no one looked at gender, considering it could change with every regeneration. 

Gender roles were pointless and so was gender, she had decided before she began to intently study the clothes. “Definitely the twentieth century, probably around the war,” she muttered to herself before she carelessly dropped the clothes back into the luggage, destroying the neatly organised folding someone took their time with. 

She looked up from the luggage, eyes coming to the giant, almost empty closet. She could see some clothes hanging on the hangers, but they looked displaced in the house, almost as if they didn’t belong. She didn’t think to inspect it as her attention was captured by a box on the top shelf. 

The Doctor stood up on her tiptoes, the tip of her tongue between her lips as she concentrated on getting to that box. She cursed her shorter legs again, as her fingers finally grasped the box. She liked this body, people mostly thought she was friendly which was always proven to be a plus, however, sometimes they didn’t take her as seriously as they would her predecessor. Maybe it was the eyebrows because there was no way that the fam was right and that it was her eccentric fashion sense. 

Her hearts ached at the thought of her fam and she got distracted for long enough for the box to fall on her head and then down on the floor. She cursed under her breath, rubbing her forehead to soothe the pain. That was another thing she didn’t exactly like about this body; the clumsiness. 

Before she could register what fell out of the box, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Collecting the box and its insides, she quickly got into the closet and closed the door behind her, glad the closet was big enough to fit in, or maybe she was tiny enough to fit in, but there was no time to think about that. 

She quickly skimmed over the items in her hands, brows furrowing with confusion. Among various trinkets were two mobile phones, the start of the twenty-first century. They looked oddly familiar; the cases scratched as if they fell on the ground a lot. She ran her fingers across the display, hoping it would tell her something, but the battery had died. 

She could hear footsteps nearing the bedroom and then she looked over to the clothes. 

Next to her was a mustard-coloured jacket, the colour blending in with memories of orange hair. She remembered hazel eyes filled with tears staring into her own that were not hers anymore, the air that was filled with pain and bravery and a decision. She remembered the bowtie around her neck suddenly feeling heavy and tight, making it harder to breathe, the air kept on coming out but not in as she struggled to find the words to make her stay, to make it all better, to fix it. 

They were names on her long list, never to be seen again, because it was impossible, because she couldn’t be in New York, she couldn’t bring them back no matter how much she wanted to. Except, the air around her wasn’t polluted, it wasn’t smoggy and heavy, it was clean and filled with spring and she wasn’t in New York, but they couldn’t be there. 

She couldn’t lose them again. 

... 

Rory closed the door behind them, looking over at Amy who was shivering with cold, her hair a mess. He turned the light on and breathed in the stillness of the house. The wind was picking up even more and they were both glad to be inside, hidden from the dangerous force. 

Without a word, they both made their way over to the kitchen, sitting down at the table as they used to when things were normal. The light above their heads was dim and a warm yellow glow filled the room, casting soft shadows on Amy’s face. She was lost in thought and he didn’t dare to ask, the creases on her forehead deepening more with each passing second. 

Then, she stopped and looked at him, face calm and rid of any emotion. He raised a brow but said nothing, taking her hand and running his thumb gently across the smooth skin. It was a day well spent, no matter the turn the weather decided to take and he couldn’t wait to fall asleep next to his wife, holding her closer, breathing in her scent. 

It was when the unreliable light flickered when he thought that he saw it, a gloomy shadow, facing him as if it were staring. He blinked a few times; his eyes must’ve been playing tricks on him. However, the shadow stayed completely still as if it were watching him and suddenly, he felt it. 

The world around him shifted, pain filling up his senses, something hurt, his lungs now void of air and he struggled to catch his breath as if the oxygen around him had disappeared and all that he could feel was fear and emptiness. It wrapped around him like a blanket, suffocating him, his heartbeat getting faster with each shallow breath. 

The shadow stood still, radiating so much hurt until it flickered out of existence, each flicker bringing more pain, more panic, more fear. 

“Rory?” Amy questioned, alarmed, noticing his sudden change in demeanour. She turned around to where he was staring, a puzzled look on her face as her gaze met empty space. 

He softly shook his head, feeling of dread leaving him, flickering out of existence as if it were never there, and gave her a small smile, “just thought that I saw something, like a shadow… it was probably nothing,” he explained, eyes still fixed on the now empty spot. 

His thoughts wandered to the morning in the bedroom, the same feeling that made his heart beat faster present in both situations. Maybe it was ghosts from the past, his mind making up shadows to torment him. Maybe he was finally going mad after a year of time changing for them, after them changing for time. Amy would stay with him. 

Amy was good, he realised as his eyes made their way back to her face. Her expression was one of concern but she tried not to let it show, replacing it with a wary smile that froze on her lips instead. Rory was now the concerned one, concerned and confused, as he studied every inch of her face to see what she was thinking of. 

“I thought I heard something,” she admitted after a few seconds, wide eyes darting around the room. 

He tried to listen in, but his mind was still too distracted, eyes scared to look around in case they would see the shadow again, heart beating faster at the thought. He was far too distracted to hear anything, to focus. 

“It was probably just the wind,” Rory deduced, trying to ease them both. It didn’t work and he had a bad feeling as his stomach filled with worry once again. 

“There’s no way that this place is haunted, right? I mean, we’ve been going here for almost a year now and never had this problem,” Amy thought out loud, trying to come to a reasonable conclusion. It was just the wind and nothing more, just the weather and dim lighting playing tricks on their minds. 

“Right, no ghosts, no aliens, nothing weird going on,” Rory agreed, knowing it wouldn’t fool Amy and it certainly didn’t fool him. After going through so much together, they could almost read each other like a book, only wobbling on blurred lines that the other didn’t want their partner to cross and so neither one of them pried out of respect and love. 

This time, however, he wanted her to not know him that well, he wanted to calm her, to make her feel safe, to let her know that it was nothing. “No ghosts, no aliens,” Amy agreed, nodding her head to further prove her point. 

But then the lights dimmed again, flickering like a warm and soothing flame, fading into nothingness and he could hear the footsteps above his head, wooden floor creaking under foreign feet and this time he was focused enough and almost sure he was not making it up. 

Amy looked to him in panic, ready to rise from her chair and storm upstairs, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her and put his index finger in front of his mouth. It was quiet again. They both let out a breath of relief and Amy once again sunk into her chair, chuckling a bit at their sudden fright. Nothing was going on, it was just the weather and nothing more. 

That’s when the loud bang came and after it a barely audible muttering of pain. Amy rose from her chair and made her way to one of the cabinets, taking out a rolling pin before she turned back to face her husband and with a quiet nod, he stood up too and followed behind her. 

The stairs made painful sounds under their weight and he was sure that if there indeed was an intruder, they were already in the know about their presence. Amy looked back at him as they made their way into the bedroom and looked over the place. The luggage was in the way, clothes messy and Amy scoffed at the sight, turning to shoot her husband an angry glance. 

But other than that, the room was empty. They stood in the middle, looking around at the perfectly empty and quiet room. The closet was closed shut and, at that moment, Rory felt chills creep up his spine. Because he could’ve sworn the room looked differently the morning when he left it. 

Amy looked around once again and then she smiled at Rory, seemingly content with the situation. There was no one, crisis was averted. They could write it up to the wind and bad weather and their senses messing with them because of their emotional state. The redhead chuckled and turned her back to Rory, on her way out of the room, saying she’ll make tea as she passed through the doorframe. And then someone sneezed. 

“Aw, Rory,” she turned around, a playful smile on her face, “you sneeze like a little kitten, it’s adorable.” 

Rory, however, turned pale, as realisation dawned on him, and he slowly shook his head, his voice coming out a mere whisper. 

“Amy.” 

“And don’t start with the whole ‘you can’t make fun of me’ thing because I am your wife and you basically signed up for until-death-do-us-part teasing.” 

“Amy.” 

“Rory?” 

“Amy.” 

Her smile froze on her lips as she took in his expression. His eyes were wide and panicked, and she watched him slowly turn to the closet. “Amy, it wasn’t me, sneezing,” he whispered as Amy joined his side, rolling pin risen high above her head, ready to hit whoever was inside. 

At that moment, Rory was certain he didn’t close the closet door when he left the room, he was certain he didn’t touch the clothes and he was certain that he didn’t look inside the box on the top shelf, because whoever was inside had, judging from the key left on the floor in front of the mahogany doors. 

The room was awfully quiet, so quiet that he could hear his heartbeat as well as the breathing of whoever was inside that closet. Their breaths were fast and shallow as if they were trying to hold their breath and failing miserably. Rory looked over to Amy who nodded confidently while gripping the rolling pin tighter, making sure she could fight off whatever threat has chosen to grace their living space. 

It was now or never, Rory realised as he watched the door, holding his breath. Whoever was inside was probably, even more, scared them they were, or they were plotting their next move to hurt them. He was hoping it would be the first one as his shaky hands reached for the handles. Deep breaths. And with that, he opened the door. 

The person inside looked at them in shock as something passed over her expression, like sadness or recognition, but it was gone before Rory could even properly register it. She was short and blonde, dressed in some of the most ridiculous clothes he has seen and that was coming from someone who had to get used to after-first-world-war chic. She was dressed mostly in blue, her dark blue trousers looked too short and her shirt had rainbow stripes across the chest, yelling eccentric into his face. 

Before he could realise what was happening, Amy charged at her, rolling pin in hand ready to strike. Both women cried out, the shorter one getting out of the way, her hands full with something painfully familiar. “Don’t hit me!” she yelled at Amy, ready to dodge another attack. 

“Who are you and what are you doing in our bedroom?” Amy demanded; accent thicker than Rory was used to. He knew it got stronger with strong emotions; however, it was a long time since he has last heard it anywhere near this thickness. 

“What are you doing here?” the blonde asked, still holding onto the objects in her hands. Rory looked them over carefully, suddenly recognising that the objects in her grasp weren’t supposed to exist. Not yet. 

“We live here, kinda,” Amy replied, rolling pin still held high, one wrong move and blondie would get it. 

The strange woman nodded and looked at them both as if she was making sure they were real. She didn’t seem like a threat, not really, just like a really eccentric thirty-something year old that had a hobby of breaking into houses and hiding in closets. 

“What are you doing here?” Rory took the initiative and the blonde looked up at him as if she was debating on how much to tell them. Amy and Rory both looked at her, expecting an answer she was unsure if she should give. Finally, opened her mouth and then immediately closed it again. 

“Lady, I swear I will hit you if you don’t tell us what you’re doing in our house,” Amy said, aggressively Scottish. The woman nodded again as if she had finally made up her mind. 

“Well, I, um, see… I got lost?” she said, her lie unconvincing, even to herself, and she flinched a bit, her nose scrunching up. Amy gaped at her, her hand that was still gripping the rolling pin coming down a bit, as she asked, “you got lost?” 

“You see I was on a walk and then I was here and now I have to go, it was nice to see you, bye!” she said quickly and then she ran off, phones still clutched tightly in her hands. 

Before Rory could react, Amy was already running after her, their footsteps echoing throughout the house. He got down as soon as his mind realised what was going on, taking the place next to his wife as the blonde tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t even budge. The lights around them were flickering in and out of existence, shadows everywhere around them. 

The blonde didn’t seem to bothered by it, still trying to get out, the door shaking under the force, but not opening. She cried out in frustration when she realised her attempts were futile and for a moment one of her hands made its way towards her pocket, but she stopped in her tracks when she heard Amy clean her throat behind her. 

The flickering stopped and suddenly Rory felt a wave of exhaustion come over him. He decided to shake it off, choosing to focus on the woman in front of them, unsure of what would happen. Amy had a confused expression that mixed with anger, rolling pin still in hand, waiting for the opportunity to strike. 

The woman turned to face them with a sheepish expression on her face, placing both hands up in defeat, before she realised her mistake. Her eyes went from the phones in her hands to the pair that was staring her down. She gulped, putting the phones down on the dusty cupboard, not taking her eyes off of the couple. “I didn’t come here to steal,” she explained, her accent thick, resembling something distinctly not American, more on the northern side of Britain. 

“Why did you come here?” Amy asked again with a stern look that almost made even Rory shiver in fear. 

The blonde fidgeted with the sleeves of her coat before taking a heavy breath, hazel eyes filled with something familiar and yet… alien. “Would you by any chance believe me if I told you that I saw a shadow in the woods?” 

Rory was taken aback, blinking a few times to bring himself back to reality. Because while it was wild to admit, he would believe her even though he had no idea why he should trust her. There was an air of familiarity around her, like meeting a long-lost friend, barely recognising them and yet they were still the same. It was as if some unknown force was swirling around her as if she was somehow familiar and yet she was change. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was about her, whether it was the over-the-top clothes or something hidden deep behind her eyes. 

“No, no we would not,” Amy replied quicker before Rory could collect his thoughts and he had to jump in to control the damage, “yes we would.” 

The blonde shot him a hopeful glance while Amy glared at her husband. Amy would believe her, she was used to the impossible, she was the impossible. She was taken out of her time and long before then she realised that time is more than what she was used to. That she could thread on it softly, that she could travel through the stream, going against it, above it instead of simply with it. But now she was stuck with a mundane life that was somehow not ordinary at all and she just wanted to get on with her life instead of listening to a lady that somehow seemed alien to her, talk about shadows in a forest. 

Because if she were to get back to her old life of adventure, she needed him and Rory by their side. And while Rory was stood beside her and while he was more than enough, she didn’t want to do it without her raggedy man. And she knew that he would never come back. 

Yet there was something about the woman stood in front of her, it was as if she knew her, but she was certain she has never met her, she would remember someone with that dress sense. Her thoughts conjured up the image of a man in tweed with a bowtie, but she shook it out of her head before she could get sentimental over him again. 

She turned to face her husband, his eyes filled with the same confusion she had and she could feel it twist and turn, making her head hurt. 

“Look, I really don’t want to hurt you and I’m sorry for scaring you,” the blonde interrupted their silent conversation, giving them a small, hopeful smile. Amy was not sure why, but she believed her. It was as if honesty radiated off of her at that moment, filling up the room. There was something else too, hidden in her tone, something that reminded Amy of pain and love and at that moment, she knew, that the short woman in front of her was genuine. She wasn’t so sure as to why she would trust her gut without any further proof, but she did. 

“I want an explanation,” she said after a few moments, her tone stern, “and then I want you out, I won’t call the police, but I want you gone.” 

The blonde nodded and Amy could’ve sworn that she saw something flash across her face, gone before it was there, a pained expression of realisation and loss. It seemed so strange, ancient, alien on the oddly dressed woman in front of her, but somehow it was the most genuine expression she had seen on her face so far. 

“What did you say about the… shadow?” Rory piped in and somehow Amy was sure he saw the same expression that she did, it was as if he were trying to diffuse a situation that he had no idea they were a part of. 

“Ah, yes, shadow, about this big, dark, a bit mysterious I’ll give it that,” the blonde rambled on, hands moving in a familiar pattern and Amy had to search her memory to figure out where had she seen such movement. 

“And you ended up here how exactly?” Rory continued the questioning, knowing it would probably put the odd woman more at ease than if Amy were the one asking. After all, she did have a tendency to get rather Scottish. 

“It, uh, it told me to follow it? Well, not told me, but I thought it wanted me to go here, so I did,” she rambled and nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders as if it were just another regular day for her. 

Rory sighed, “let me get this straight, you saw a shadow, where did you say that was?” 

“The woods.” 

“Right, the woods. You saw a shadow in the woods and you thought it would be best to follow it to a house in the middle of nowhere and then decided to break in?” 

“Sounds about right, yea.” 

“Why would you follow a shadow from the woods to a house in the middle of nowhere?” Rory continued his questioning, his voice slightly on edge, going higher with every word. 

“It didn’t seem threatening if that’s what you’re implying,” she shrugged, hands once again fidgeting as if she were nervous. 

Rory’s thoughts wandered for a second, questions about how he felt when it was around screaming out in his mind. No, it didn’t seem dangerous, but it did make him feel something, something like dread and mourning. 

Amy continued to stare at the stranger, trying to figure out why she was so familiar. There was this enigmatic energy around her and Amy wanted to solve the riddle, to crack the code and to know what was going on. A strange woman decided to follow a shadow into their house and acted as if it was normal for her. 

“Have you seen it too? The shadow. You did say you’d believe me,” the woman said quietly, looking up at Rory. He paused to think, shaking off the remains of the uneasiness and then sighed, his eyes studying Amy for a moment before he replied. “I think so.” 

She nodded and then looked at the pair as if she were going to ask something more, but then something behind her eyes shifted and her shoulders slumped. “You wanted me to go.” 

It wasn’t a question nor a statement. It was something that sounded sad as if it were lined with pain and lost hope. Amy took a deep breath and nodded, the small gesture somehow breaking her heart as if she were turning away a friend and not a strange woman that wasn’t supposed to be there. 

“Right,” she murmured, turning away from them and reaching for the door handle. The lights flickered again and again and the door stood still. Nothing. “Am I opening this right?” 

Amy rolled her eyes as she made her way to the door, ignoring the way her eyes hurt in the changing light. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t move as if there was someone else, pushing into it, making them trapped inside. She let out a yell of frustration as she fought with the door, but nothing she did seemed to work. 

“We’re stuck,” she realised, a blanket of defeat falling over her shoulder. 

The light came back. Rory frowned, looking up at the lightbulb above his head, studying it carefully. Maybe it was the weather. It must’ve been the weather. He tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that filled up his system once again, flickering, altering between calm and panic. 

“I think it has something to do with that shadow,” the blonde thought out loud, pacing around the hall, seemingly unbothered by the lights, “because as I’ve said, I’m pretty sure it wanted me to follow it.” 

“Great, a shadow is keeping us locked inside our own house,” Rory said sarcastically, desperately holding onto the thought that the light was because of the weather. There was something alien going on and he didn’t want to admit it to himself. 

“Where have you last seen it?” she turned to face Rory, somehow seemingly bigger than life although she was of short stature. 

“The kitchen, but what does that have to do with anything?” 

The woman was already on her way when she turned back to them, blonde hair slapping her with the sudden movement. “I don’t know, but it’s a start,” she replied with a smile on her face before turning around once again, muttering something along the way. 

Rory looked to Amy, unsure of what to do next. The redhead made her way to the door, hand hovering over the handle. As soon as she touched it, the lights once again flickered and stopped when she took a step back. Amy nodded at the discovery and then she grabbed Rory’s hand and dragged him to the living room, voice hushed and frantic as she spoke. 

“What are we going to do? I mean, we are trapped, in our house, with some flickering lights, a strange lady and a very ominous sounding shadow that I want nothing to do with, not to mention that she saw our phones Rory, our phones, technology that is not supposed to exist for another few decades!” 

She stopped, slowing down to catch her breath, footsteps erratic as she paced around the room. “I mean, what do we do, do we like…” she ran her finger across her neck. 

“Amy we are not going to kill her!” Rory whispered a bit too loudly and they swore they could hear something in the background stop, like a white noise that was somehow familiar. 

“I know! Shut up, I’m panicking, okay?” she cried out and then she slumped down on the sofa, exhaustion radiating off of her. 

Rory sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder, gently running it across the fabric of her dress. When they signed up for a life of adventure, this was not what they had in mind. And judging from the look on the Doctor’s face when they asked him about the people before them, they got lucky. They got to live, even though it was in difficult circumstances. And the circumstances now were very odd. 

There was a faint buzzing coming from the kitchen that reminded him of something, but he shook his head before looking to his wife who was still taken aback. “It should be okay, we’ll figure it out, even without him,” he said to her. 

She turned to meet his gaze; eyes glassy. “Yea, we will have done a hundred times now, haven’t we?” she laughed dryly, making him chuckle with her. 

There was a sudden and very loud sound coming from the kitchen that made them stand up frantically and they almost ran to the kitchen to see what was going on. 

... 

She left the room, still not sure if she was imagining them or not. It probably wasn’t just a twisted fantasy as Amy’s rolling pin seemed like a real threat just a few moments ago. The lights flickered once again and she held her breath in anticipation until the room was once again filled with warm light. She tried to ignore the hushed yet loud conversation coming from the living room, taking out her sonic instead and scanning the room to see what was going on. 

It was a risky move, but she was pretty sure their hearing wasn’t as good as her own and the hall between them made it so all they could hear would be white noise. She wondered why the doors were closed and quickly considered trying to use her sonic on them, but that would expose her to them and she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Her thoughts did wander to the dirty windows, but they were interrupted before she even had the chance to reach one when she heard Rory’s panicked voice cry out eight words, she thought she would never hear. 

“Amy we are not going to kill her!” 

She stopped what she was doing, suddenly realising how noisy her sonic was as she carefully pocketed it, alerted by the possibility of her in-laws, that didn’t know she was their son-in… daughter-in-law, killing her. She knew they wouldn't do it, knew they were panicked, but the thought gave her an eery feeling that she desperately wanted to go away. 

Instead, she made her way around the kitchen, studying each surface, looking for something out of the ordinary. It was just a normal kitchen, painted in yellow, the furniture wooden, oak judging from the looks of it. The warm light above her head was flickering every few seconds, casting shadows around her. 

“Be a good shadow or ghost or whatever,” she said quietly, eyes scanning the room for any movement that wasn’t her own. “I came here to help you, I think you wanted help, right? This is a really bad situation for everyone involved, so if you could just show yourself and let me help, everything will turn out okay and I’ll go on my merry way and they’ll forget I was ever here, it will be fine.” 

She was rambling, nervous. Her hearts were filled with dread, the sight of them more painful than she could’ve ever imagined, magnified by the realisation that they don’t see her. Of course, they don’t see her, why would they? She was a ghost from their past, or maybe they were a ghost from hers. It was a house filled with ghosts, memories too painful to speak of, for them and her. She couldn’t tell them, she wouldn’t. 

The thought broke her hearts anew. They would loathe her; they probably already do. Her past self, he let them go. He was a broken man and he let them go and he didn’t even try to break the universe to get them back and they probably hated him for it. They probably still believed he could fix it, or maybe they lost all hope, she couldn’t know and the knowledge would shatter her even more. 

She carried them in her hearts, looking back while moving forward, the oxymoron of the situation being her only constant. That and her blue box that probably knew what would happen, but it only brought up more questions. Why would she do it? 

The Doctor sighed, the room around her unnaturally still. There were hushed voices still coming from the living room, but they seemed quieter, more at peace. They would be okay without her. She just had to solve it and get out of there. 

The shadow appeared. It flickered like the light above her head and then the light shattered and the room got covered by a blanket of darkness, momentarily blinding her. She let out a yelp as she felt something brush on her arm, but the feeling was gone immediately, the place now cold, covered in goosebumps. It was as if it had flickered. 

There were loud, heavy footsteps coming her way, thudding on the wooden floor that creaked with each step. Before she could register what was going on, the light turned back on and there they were the ghosts in her mind, staring her down with confused eyes and something else, something familiar, something she couldn’t put her finger on. 

“Are you okay?” Amy asked, stepping towards her, making her aware that this was not a dream. 

The Doctor took a step back but nodded, her breaths were shallow and panicked, but she would be okay. She didn’t think her current state was a result of the shadow’s doing, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. 

“I think I saw it,” she said, looking up at the pair. They nodded quietly, waiting for her to continue. It was almost like old times, she thought to herself, but quickly shook her head to get that thought out. 

“I think it wants help; I don’t think it’s dangerous. If it were, it would’ve already tried to hurt us.” 

The couple nodded again. It made sense at the moment. It had several opportunities to attack and yet it did not, not when Rory was alone, even though it did make him feel uneasy, not when he was with Amy in the kitchen, not now when the strange woman was alone. Come to think of it, the woman who’s name they didn’t know also didn’t try to hurt them, further proving that she was telling the truth. She didn’t want to hurt them, she just wanted to help. 

The trio stayed quiet for a moment, the Doctor lost in thought as Amy and Rory led a silent conversation. She looked at them, stealing in sneaky glances when she was the surest they wouldn’t catch her. She was trying to burn their image in her memory, every last bit of them framed so she wouldn’t forget in a few lifetimes. 

“Right, so, seems that we are stuck, so maybe we should get started on names? Looks like you’re our guest now,” Rory shrugged. “I’m Rory and this is my wife Amy.” 

“Jane.” 

The lie slipped out easily enough for them to be satisfied with it, to not question it. 

She turned around, pretending to look at the room around her, hoping they wouldn’t notice her eyes filling up with tears and the strained and painful smile on her lips as the lie escaped them. They had their raggedy man to remember, whether in good or bad, and she wouldn’t take that away from them no matter how much she wanted to. She wouldn’t be selfish on their behalf, not again. They deserved better and she was old enough to be selfless. 

She knew that was another lie, but she could try for them, she could try to make it out of there and let them live. They would live with the knowledge that he never tried and that was okay because he didn’t because it would hurt too much when he’d lose them again. Knowing they were alive and that he could visit anytime made them more alive in her mind than actually seeing them live. 

“I think the shadow wants to show me something,” she said after she managed to compose herself. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It tried to touch me.” 

The pair looked at her in confusion. “And what do you want to do with that information?” Amy asked, her eyebrow raised in anticipation. 

“I’m going to touch it when it shows up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, me again... so, um, as we all know, I'm not really that confident in my writing and it shows. I'm really trying, but it's just meh in my eyes, the characters are probably out of character and the aliens in this story are literally so pointless but I wanted to write this story because I just adore thirteen meeting past companions and I miss the ponds and ahh, I'm rambling, anyway, I hope I didn't disappoint that much, I'm really sorry if the story turns out to be awful. once again, thank you all for reading and for your kind comments


End file.
